


When Promted

by LittleBat



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: And get my mind off my anxiety, Angst, Babies, Ducks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Miscarriage, Past Abuse, Something to help with writers block, Therapy writing pretty much, one shots, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:33:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBat/pseuds/LittleBat
Summary: A collection of short drabbles, using writing prompts from Tumblr for inspiration.





	1. Ducks!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I had to get baby ducks to imprint on me for a science experiment and now there's six ducks following me down the street and you're just standing there...watching 
> 
> Prompt is from DailyAu on Tumblr. I reblogged my story on it too.
> 
> This was supposed to be a short drabbles, cause I saw a cute prompt and wanted to write it. And then this happened.

To be fair, Marianne knew she was quite the site to behold. Decked out in a studded black leather jacket, jeans so tight they appeared to be painted on, and a dark purple bandeau top that showed off her pierced belly, she was the recipient of many curious looks. Her bright purple mohawk and equally stunning eye shadow were pretty much the definition of attention getting. She radiated an angry energy, barely contained by her 5’ 2” form.

The final piece of her commanding appearance were the six baby ducks that followed along behind her stomping combat boots. As part of her final psychology thesis Marianne had purchased and hand raised a batch of Ancona ducks, imprinting them on herself and documenting their growth and personalities. Out of the 8 eggs she had gotten, one didn't hatch, and one baby didn't survive the first night, leaving her with a half dozen peeping bundles of yellow fluff that followed her every step. At 3 weeks old parts of their downy yellow fluff were replaced with white feathers, black spots all over their adorably small bodies. 

As she walked to school, looking like some goth punk Disney Princess, Marianne endured the amused stares and not so subtle photos. She didn't even mind when people stopped her to ask questions, as long as they were polite about it. It was only once she got to her campus that Marianne felt herself tense. More than one idiot had thought it would be ‘funny’ to mess with her ducks, and Marianne had wasted no time in protecting her fluffy children with an effusive amount of violence. The odd parade made it through the quad and into the building her first class was in before the cruel mistress name Fate made herself known.

Roland, star quarterback for the university's football team, ideal image of nearly every straight girl's wet dream hero, and douche bag ex-fiance extraordinaire popped out of an adjoining hall and blocked the small brunettes path. Other members of his team, most notably the triplets who followed him everywhere, appeared behind him. The whole group dressed in their jerseys, a garish bright green with golden accents. Anger coursed through the duck queens veins before the irritating blonde even opened his mouth.

“There ya are darlin’. I've been looking everywhere for you. And I see you still have your, uh, pets.” Smarmy and overconfident, Roland leaned ‘seductively’ against the wall, curling a lock of his hair with his fingers. The rest of the football team fanned out, trying to look like they weren't blocking her in whilst doing exactly that.

“Roland. How many times do I have to say ‘get lost’ before it gets into that bleached skull of yours?” Her hiss was viscous, punctuated by ‘ooh’s from the small audience they had. Other students, seeing the chance for drama to spice up their dull days, loitered in the halls to watch. Marianne spared the crowd a brief glance, checking for any signs of authority, before returning her attention to the man in front of her.

“Now buttercup, there's no need to be like that. I came all the way out here to accept your apology, you know. I've got a busy day ahead, but I'll always take time for my special girl.” His speech caused some of his backup to look at each other in doubt. This was not what he'd told them, and was not going how he'd said it would. 

Marianne, for her part, did an amazingly good job of keeping her anger in check as she listened. If Dawn was here there would have been a round of applause for her composure. Her anger management therapist would be weeping in joy. It also helped that while her father was dean of the University, there was only so many fights she could get in before expulsion happened. Instead of launching herself at him like an angry tigress, Marianne took a deep breath and tried to will her hands out of the tight fists they had made. 

“Go stick a fork in a toaster Roland, some electroshock might get rid of those delusions you have. There is no power on earth that would have me apologize to a cheating, power-hungry, lying, son-of-a-bitch like you.” If glares could kill Roland would be dead five times over from the one she gave him. Since that didn't happen, Marianne hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and pushed her way past the blonde.

What happened next was prime viral video entertainment, though the students smart enough to be recording this would have to slow down the playback so nothing was missed. As Marianne passed by, Roland whipped his hand out, catching her arm and swinging her into the wall. It was supposed be romantic, him protecting her from the world with his manly man body, and her swooning at his display. Instead, Roland managed to kick one of her ducks during his maneuver, the winged entourage having been hiding at their mothers feet. 

Marianne saw red as one of her precious babies was knocked over, and released an inhuman screech as she leapt at Roland. The unexpected attack knocked him down, and though he was a good half foot taller than her he was no match for her blind fury. Or her swinging fists, which met his face with a very satisfying noise. The ducks, used to their mothers behaviors and having learned well from her, joined in the fray, biting and clawing at her opponent. 

A very high pitched squeal sounded from her victim as his nose went ‘crack’ before Marianne was knocked off him. Roland turned and crawled away, crying about his broken nose while his teammates picked him up and carried him off. A few cheers sounded from the peanut gallery, but Marianne ignored them as she turned to her small charges. Five of them had joined in the fight, and she found the sixth being held by the tallest man she had ever seen.

Fore-brain Marianne recognized him as Bogen ‘Bog’ Kings, third year vet student in the same program as her younger sister, going off his appearance alone. Dawn had always described ‘Boggy’ as tall and lanky, with a sharp nose and the prettiest blue eyes ever, ‘like seriously Marianne they're so perfectly bright and even though he's always grumpy you can see how much he cares by looking at his eyes.’ Marianne appreciated the description, and had to admit her sibling was right about the eyeballs/caring ratio. He was holding her duck with gentle hands, checking it over for injury.

Hind-brain Marianne did not notice or care about any of the things fore-brain spewed out in the millisecond they took to take in the situation. No, all hind-brain saw was another threat to her charges, someone who had no right to hold her duck and there was hell to pay for his transgression. In one smooth movement her fist shot out, tiny in comparison to him, but meeting his chin with a force so great that he released the duck he'd been holding hostage (caring for) and dropped to the ground stunned. 

Marianne caught her bird without hesitation, tucking the small fowl in her arms as she glared down at the sprawled man. He looked up at her in shock, one hand going to his chin. 

“Don't touch my ducks!” Her roar was venomous, punctuated by her agitated brood hissing behind her. Little known fact, ducks don't have teeth but instead serrated bristles that run along their beaks, and do in fact look quite menacing when 5 angry jaws are pointed at your face. Bog appeared to be appropriately cowed by the small avian intimidation, so Marianne twirled with a dramatic flourish and stalked off the way she came. Students tripped over each other in their haste to make way for the small bundle of anger and her waddling entourage, and a good amount of money was passed between hands as those who were smart enough to bet on her collected their winnings. 

The animal studies wing was on the other side of the campus, but with rage on her face and angry birds at her heel Marianne made quick time getting there. It only took her a few minutes to track down her sister, courtesy of a few scared first years who happened to be crushing on her, the young blonde was in one of the labs doing who-knows-what when Marianne barged in. 

“Huey’s been hurt.” She spoke over her sisters gasp of fright and completely ignored the other students in the room, holding out her bird urgently. Dawn, bless her bubbly soul, didn't hesitate in taking her new patient and giving him a thorough examination. With all the patience of a caged lion Marianne paced back and forth while she waited. Accustomed to her antics the remaining brace settling down under one of the tables to wait. It wasn't a long wait.

“He's fine Marianne. A bit shook up, might have a bruise on his side, but nothing bad.” Dawn reassured her sibling, plopping the duck on question down with his. Of all the important people in Marianne's life, which amounted to Dawn, their father, and childhood friend Sunny, Dawn was the only one to understand her older sisters attachment to the ducks. She knew that Marianne wanted kids, had planned on marrying the love of her life and raising a swarm of mini-Mari. That dream was suitably crushed when the fiery woman had caught Roland cheating on her, all hopes of love and marriage gone with it. 

So Dawn had encouraged Marianne's idea of raising the ducks. She was there when Marianne ordered the eggs, helped her build the incubator and wait for the precious cargo, took an incredible amount of pictures as the eggs were candled daily, and cried with her sister when two didn't make it. Dawn knew the ducklings meant the world to Marianne, the bond between mother and child that transcended species and could not be betrayed. Dawn understood. 

“What happened?” The vet-to-be questioned gently as Marianne dropped to ground with a groan. The ducks immediately swarmed her, pressing their small fluffy bodies together for some adorable cuddles. Which Dawn totally wasn't jealous of. At all.

“Roland.” It was a curse and an explanation all in one, and Marianne knew she wouldn't have to elaborate. A snarl of anger flashed across the perky girls face, as rare as a twenty foot crocodile and equally deadly. When angered there was no doubt Dawn was her sibling, and woe to whoever managed to incur her wrath. The look didn't stay long, as the younger girl took in her sister appearance and noticed her bloodied knuckles. 

“Marianne! Your hands!” Dawns want to become a vet had stemmed from taking care of the many injuries Marianne obtained growing up, being something of a wild animal herself. She was an old hand, pun very much intended, at doctoring her sister and so wasted no time in grabbing the first aid kit from her bag and cleaning out and taking care of the wounds. Neither sister bothered to move from their positions, both comfy where they were. 

“You should see the other guys.” Marianne boasted, ignoring the flare of guilt that accompanied the thought. Without the adrenaline and anger, Marianne knew she Messed up. Capital M, for mucho grande on the ‘You done wrong’ scale. Attacking Roland was one thing, the bastard deserved it, but there was real regret for her second victim. Her anger management therapist would be very disappointed. 

“Yeah? And wait, guys? As in plural? As in you fought more than one?” Now Dawn was loving and supported her sister no matter what, and she knew Marianne had that black belt in karate and took kickboxing and judo and did MMA, but she still worried about her getting in fights. 

“Only two. I think I broke Rolands nose. Assbutt tried to kiss me, and kicked Huey.” Marianne took a second to give the injured duck some love. “Then I maybe punched another guy who was probably only trying to help.” The words were pushed out in a rush, and Dawn had to take a second to decipher what was said. 

Whatever Dawn might have retorted with was lost as the main lab door was slammed open. A very angry Bog Kings entered, raking the trembling students with his eyes before settling them on Dawn and marching forward. Marianne watched from the ground, hidden by the slatted wall that ran along the tables legs, as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy made his way to her baby sister. She took a moment to appreciate the way his dark jeans hung low from his waist, the cool autumn air blocked by his baggy grey sweater and black leather jacket. The man had the shoulder to hips ratio of a dorito, but it looked damn good on him. His almost-black-but-actually-brown hair was messed, looking like he'd ran his hands through it a few times, and a large bruise was forming in the stubble on his jaw.

“Wha’ tae bludy hell is wrong wit yer family?” Bog growled out he slammed his hands onto the table that was Marianne's hiding spot and Dawns workspace. Marianne bristled at his tone, whereas Dawn completely ignored it. His Scottish brogue was unfairly attractive, thickened as it was with his anger, and Marianne did her best to ignore that. 

“Oh Boggy! What happened?” Even his death glare was no match for Dawns compassion, as her slender hand reached out to feather over his bruise.

“Yer sister.” His snarl was punctuated by him grabbing the tiny wrist before it could come in contact with his face. Dawn flinched at the sudden move, and that was all it took for Marianne to spring up from the floor. 

“Don't touch my sister!” Her threat, so similar to the one given not ten minutes ago, caused the fully grown man to yelp and jump back, releasing his prisoner as if burned. There was a healthy dose of fear in his eyes, but anything either of them were going to say was cut off by the shortest of the odd trio.

“Marianne Sebille! Tell me the guy you ‘maybe punched who was only trying to help’ wasn't Boggy!” The dreaded mom voice, though Dawn barely had any memories of her mother, combined with the full name tactic was enough to make Marianne step back. Both girls ignored the boys mumbled ‘Bog’ correction. 

“Um.” A quick glance around the room told her everyone else had cleared out, knowing they wouldn't get any work done while this was going on. There would be no one to save her. “He was holding my duck?” That wasn't supposed to be a question. Marianne ran her hand across the back of her neck awkwardly, the other gesturing vaguely between Bog and the ducks shuffling at her feet.

“Boggy is the sweetest, he would never hurt your ducks!” Another ‘Bog’ was ignored as the indignant blonde glared at her big sister. The two inches of height difference did nothing to diminish her anger.

“I am very disappointed in you for hurting my friend. You are going to apologize to Boggy. And you're going to take care of that bruise for him.” Dawns tone was no nonsense as she quickly packed up her bags. This time the ‘Bog’ was resigned and a bit confused, but still ignored by the female population of the room. All two of them. A silent staring contest was waged between the two sisters, an argument done with the eyes that Dawn won easily.

“Bye Boggy!” The Scot was ambushed with a light kiss on his cheek, the blonde using the rungs of a stool to give her the height necessary before she flounced from the room. His cheekbones flared with a blush, his final attempt at correcting his name lost with a choke. Marianne, watching the whole exchange, found it oddly adorable.

Awkward silence reigned in the lab, Marianne tucking a stray lock of her mohawk back to vertical while Bog found something incredibly interesting on the floor. 

“I'm sorry. For punching you. In the face.” Good job Marianne, A for effort but F for execution. It was probably one of the worst apologies she'd given. The recipient seemed shocked by it, his holy shit those are really blue eyes darting to hers before looking away. 

“A’m fine. It's fine.” Obviously not, with the dark purple splotch that graced his jaw, but Bog lied anyways. It wasn't that he was scared of the little spitfire in front of him. No, it was a healthy appreciation of the fact that she could easily kick his ass. Bog was no slouch in fighting, he'd had over 30 cousins growing up in Scotland, where affection was shown in a very physical way, and had been in his fair share of pub brawls. Still, he recognized a trained fighter when he met one, and had felt the power she kept hidden in her small body.

And what a body it was. Bog had long since resigned himself to a bachelor's life, due to his gangly height and hideous appearance, but he could still appreciate a beautiful woman. Which Marianne certainly was. Even though she was short, like the top of her head just came up to his collarbone short, she was lithe and curvy in all the right places. Scottish beauty favored those with a bit more weight on their bones, and Bog himself sure appreciated that over the stick-thin style of America. What drew him in most though were her eyes, bigger than the norm and a warm golden honey, so expressive on her face.

“Is yer duck alright?” He covered up his gaping and wandering thoughts with his blurted out question, blushing slightly at her raised eyebrow. Curse his fair Gaelic skin for showing his flush so easily. It was a useless question, as Bog had checked out the bird before he'd been decked, and knew the answer already.

“Yeah. He's fine.” Marianne gestured to the gaggle of wandering waterfowl around her feet, watching with amusement as Bog carefully skirted the table to look at them. She got a good look at his bruise, and felt her hands twinge in sympathy. Luckily there was no broken skin, but it probably hurt something fierce. 

“Let me see your face.” Blunt and to the point, Marianne reached out and grabbed his chin, ignoring personal boundaries as she manhandled him. Bog froze in place, stooped down to give her better access and blushing like a tomato at how close her face was to his. It was the closest he'd been to a woman in years, not counting the overly friendly but still innocent affections Dawn gave.

Marianne didn't notice his inner turmoil, instead pushing him onto the closest stool and rummaging through her bag. She had a lengthy and intimate relationship with bruises and since she planned on going to the gym later had come prepared. After a few seconds of foraging she managed to produce a box of instant ice packs, a large bandage, and a tube of cream

Again, personal boundaries completely forgotten, Marianne snapped one of the ice packs before pouring some of the cream onto her hand. She was gentle, as gentle as she'd been with her newborn ducks, and very carefully started to massage the goo onto her victims face.

“This is a vitamin K cream, mixed with St. Johns wort oil. Kinda smells, but it's full of tannins to shrink the capillaries and stop the bleeding, and the vitamin K helps with clotting. Should help prevent it from growing too big, and make it hurt less.” Her voice was barely a whisper, so concentrated on her task she didn't notice his bright red face.

Once she was pleased with the coverage she covered the area with the bandage, and then placed the ice pack against it. With a wince at the sudden cold Bogs hand came up and took control of the offending object. Their hands overlapped momentarily, Marianne to focused to notice and Bog unable to notice anything else.

“Keep it cold for at least 24 hours, and put the cream on 3 times a day, until it goes away.” She tucked the cream into his jacket pockets, and only then noticed her transgressions. With an awkward laugh she backed away, snapping another ice pack and laying it over her abused knuckles. Bog watched, noticing the blush that graced her cheeks with astonishment.

“Why do ye have ducks?” This time it was Bog who broke the awkward silence, though he regretted the delivery. She rewarded him with a giggle, which seemed to surprise her as much as it did him, and sank to the ground near her charges. They immediately swarmed her, peeping happily, and she gestured for him to sit beside her. Bog did so hesitantly, remembering the sight of their snappy little beaks close to his face.

“I got them for my psychology thesis. I'm writing about imprinting, nature versus nurture, and how parenting can change a child.” While she spoke she picked up the recently battered Huey, placing the mostly white duck on Bogs lap.

“These guys are a rare-ish type of domesticated duck, called Ancona ducks. They're generally calm and timid, make good pets. But when they're raised by me they're a bit more, uh, aggressive. They copy me.” She was rewarded with a snort of humor at that understatement. Aggressive was one of the nice descriptions she'd had used for her.

“So ye made yerself an army of ducks.” His tone was teasing, and he lightly tapped the duck on his lap with a finger. Said duckling snapped his bill weakly at the offending digit. Marianne giggled again at the mumbled ‘bad duck’ Bog gave, watching as his blush came back. The man made awkward look adorable.

“Huey.” She took pity on him, taking the attention of his blundering.

“Bless ye?” His eyebrow quirked with confusion, which looked unreasonably good on him. Marianne decided that she wanted to see what else his expressive face could look like. 

“No, that's his name. Huey.” She bopped the duck on his lap on the head, laughing as she was snapped at too. 

“Ye named him Huey.” Bogs voice was filled with dry wit, and Marianne added ‘amused’ to the list of expressions she got from him. So far she had anger, awe, confusion, and fear. A good mix.

“Yep. Huey, Dewey, Louis. My boys.” Marianne pointed to the ducks as she named them. “Then there's Danger, Darkwing, and Scrooge. My girls.” Those three were braver than their brothers and had wandered away a bit, but still within sight. 

“Yer very different.” Both of them winced at that, but for completely different reasons. Bog couldn't believe he had just said that out loud, his verbal filter apparently knocked out by her punch. 

“Yeah, I get that alot.” Her shoulders hunched in, making herself seem even smaller. Which shouldn't have been possible. Bog could recognize the signs of self depreciation, and was quickly to jump in.  
“That's what A like. Uh, A mean.” He coughed, feeling the heat of his blush race across his face and reach his ears. It would be more efficient if the blush just stayed there permanently, with the frequency it came in her presence. 

“Better than being hideous like me.” He meant it to be a joke, but it fell flat. Marianne looked in confusion, seeing the sadness in his eyes. Windows to the soul and all that, she could see a kindred spirit. 

“You're not hideous.” Truth, but probably a bit to blunt, even for her. Soon they both had matching blushes, neither able to look at the other. The duck queen looked at her people, watching them climb over the tall man like he was a plaything, and noticing how even in his embarrassed state Bog was still taking care of the small fluffy piles. 

“My ducks like you, so you can't be all bad.” She stood up, brushing downy feather from her pants and offering Bog her hand. 

“C’mon you overgrown pine tree. I'm already skipping class, might as well do something fun. I'll buy you a coffee. As an apology. For the whole punching thing.” She rushed to add that last bit on, realizing last second that it sounded really close to a date invitation. And while she wouldn't mind it being a date, which was terrifying in its own right, she figured it would be better to go a bit slower 

Bog took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet and looking down at the girl. The girl who mothered ducks, punched douche bag blonde jocks, and didn't seem to care that he hadn't let go of her hand. A shy smile grew on his face, lighting up his eyes and making Marianne forget to breathe. New favorite expression right there.

“A’d like that, Tough Girl.”


	2. Bairn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've seen some 'Bog finds out Marianne is pregnant' but not many give her side to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! This story got a bit dark at one point, there's mentions of abuse and miscarriage. Nothing really described, but still a bit dark.

The past few weeks were absolute hell for Marianne. It started out with her being sick nearly every day, then came the emotional mood swings. Her loved ones were walking on eggshells, unsure what would make the ticking brunette time-bomb explode. Bog, her boyfriend of 2 years and love of her life, had been subjected to more than one angry rant turned hysterical sobbing. Even though he was currently away on a business trip, Skype still subjected him to Marianne's emotional flip-flopping. The only good part of him not being home was the ability to keep her nigh constant upset stomach a secret.

It was after a tirade in her music room studio, including but not limited to Marianne shouting at another piano student about his ineptitude, throwing her binder of sheet music at his head, and threatening to skewer him with her violin bow, that cold dread sunk in. One of her classmates, a viola player with more money than skill, made the poorly thought out comment of ‘looks like someone's on her period’ and made the female population of the class his instant enemy. Marianne had rounded on him, fire in her caramel eyes and ready to spit acid from her blackberry flavored lips, and could say nothing. Other girls yelled at him for his callous words, but Marianne didn't hear.

He was wrong. So very wrong. In fact, she hadn't had her period in just over 2 months now. Which was very odd, considering the Sebille women were as regular as clockwork. It took Marianne half a second to make the connection, ten seconds to grab her violin case, and another three for her to bolt from the room. She ran without heeding professor Plum calling her name, panic flowing through her veins and making her feet fly. Scenery passed by without being noticed, white noise flooding her ears and blocking out the surroundings. 

With heaving breaths she stopped in front of the pharmacy, the one that was only two blocks from the home she shared with Bog and was right next to her favorite liquor mart. The pharmacy that she had only ever used to buy mix, cold medicine, and condoms. Irony at it's finest, that she would be here for what the condoms were to prevent. It was some cruel humor that had the contraceptives in the same isle as the tests, but here she was. 

The shelves seemed to go on forever, thousands of different brands competing to announce the potential parasite in her womb. OK, maybe there was only like 20, but Marianne figured she was allowed some mild exaggeration. Every single brand was grabbed, stacked like some morning after Jenga in her arms. She was given a sympathetic smile from the cashier as the swag was dumped onto the counter. The older woman bagged them without comment, and even threw in a couple chocolate bars at no charge. That small act of kindness nearly made the panicked woman burst into tears, so she paid and left before the treacherous eye water could escape. 

Their home wasn't anything big, though they could have both afforded better. It had three bedrooms, only one of which was actually used for its intended purpose. The others were used as an office, from which Bog ran his body/security guard business and a library, where the hermit like couple spent many a day reading. For Marianne the selling point of the home was the extra large living room, big enough for her grand piano and the high end entertainment unit. For Bog it was the expansive basement, one half used as a workout room for the couple and the other for entertainment, complete with a fully stocked bar.

That was where Marianne went, dumping her haul on the kitchen counter before stomping down her stairs. She could hear her phone ringing in her backpack, but she ignored it in favour of the marble bar top. It had taken the drinking duo a good deal of time to get the shelves stocked properly, the perfect mix of Bogs fire water and her own alcoholic sugar juice. Both of them were proud of the strange mix, and took great delight in making drinks for each other. 

Marianne glared at the booze as if it was the cause of her dilemma, which could very well be the case. She could also blame the bar counter itself, the pool table behind her, or the overly large but incredibly comfy couch that took up most of the basement. The not quite as large but still comfy couch that sat in the living room. The kitchen counter, the dining room table, Bogs desk. The pool outside, the tree fort that was there when they bought the house, the hot tub. The bath tub. Their bed. But blaming inanimate objects wouldn't do, and could bring her sanity into question, so instead Marianne grabbed one of the bottles of peach juice from the hidden fridge and drained the whole litre. 

Since she knew it wouldn't take long to work, Marianne dashed upstairs to the kitchen, grabbing her plastic bag of doom. As a last minute thought she grabbed one of the gaudy bright pink salad bowls that had been given to them when the house was first bought but never used. No one was quite sure who had gifted it, but Marianne secretly blamed her younger sister. Dawn was full of energy and brightness, equalling the glare of neon plastic, and was forever promoting the benefits of eating more salad. Bog and Marianne ignored her on the principle that if they ate things that ate things that ate veggies, that was good enough. 

With her booty in hand Marianne went to the master bathroom, wanting privacy in her completely empty home. Part of her thought of doing this in the kitchen, but that was ignored. The bowl was placed inside the extra big jacuzzi tub, which was suspect number one for this trauma thank you very much, since Marianne didn't want any leaks happening. A line of towels were placed on the floor, opened boxes of tests laid on them in alphabetical order. The actual sticks rested below the boxes, waiting to be dipped. Not quite ready to go through with it, Marianne took out her phone to blast some motivational rock and roll while she read through every single instruction booklet.

Thirty minutes of procrastination later her bladder made its anger known. Marianne took a steadying breath, removed the clothes from her bottom half, and popped a squat over the sacrificial bowl. It was really awkward to pee in her Tupperware while hiding in her bathroom listening to Sam and the Womp sing Bom Bom, but that was a thing that happened. After a curse filled wiping Marianne began the testing process. Each strip was dipped in, held there for a few seconds, before being placed on top of their respective boxes. 17 dip sticks later Marianne was left with nothing to do but wait. 

The wait varied depending on the brand, and Marianne thanked her photographic memory for the recently learned information. Suddenly it set in that she was alone in her bathroom, naked from the waist down and kneeling next to a bowl of her slowly cooling piss. She didn't run away, no it was a tactical retreat to regroup. If regrouping meant stealing the biggest warmest sweater she could find from her boyfriends closet. Since Bog was part Ent and Marianne was part pixie, at least according to some late night Internet surveys, the sweater was actually a dress on the small woman. It went past her knees and the arms flapped uselessly over her hands. Clad in her new battle armour, and removing the deadly deadly breast trap, Marianne went to face the music. Or piss sticks. 

51 checks later, because damn right she was going to triple check everything, Marianne abandoned the bathroom. She brought her phone along, tucking it into her sweater pocket and ignoring the near constant buzz of missed texts. In a daze she made it down to the basement, staring blankly at the brightly lit shelves of alcohol. A drink sounded so good right now, even the nasty ‘it’ll put some hair on ye chest’ swill her lover drank. But that wasn't allowed, it wasn't safe anymore. Maybe she didn't know how she felt about the jellybean in her belly, and wow did that make her head swim, but Marianne knew she had to protect them.

One by one all her bottles were upended into the sink, rinsed out, and then lovingly placed back in their spots. Then she moved onto Bogs, because if she had to be sober for the next nine months he was going to suffer along with her. The last bottle was replaced before Marianne noticed the tears spilling down her cheeks, and for once she didn't fight them. Instead she collapsed on the couch, curling herself up protectively and bawling her eyes out. 

Nearly a decade ago Marianne had dreamed of the day she would be a mom, though with a father much different than Bog. Roland had been her everything, the dream boat that she had somehow managed to capture when she was 16. Everyone had approved of the couple, his parents and her father, the staff from Light Fields music academy, and the ever supportive duo of Dawn and Sunny. 

It was a perfect relationship, apparently. Even though Marianne wasn't ladylike enough, she soon learned how. And really, she didn't need any male friends, or any friends, because Roland was with her. It was Roland's idea for her to take vocal training, because a woman should be able to sing for her lover. What use was her job teaching piano to kids, Roland would provide for her. He taught her how to be respectful of men, how to keep her tongue in a man's presence because a woman was to been seen and not heard. 

When Marianne had gotten pregnant it was her dream come true. Maybe she hadn't been quite ready for sex yet, but a man had needs and it was her duty to please Roland. They were one step closer to being a real family. It had taken a lot to convince Roland it was a good thing. He had worried about the changes it would put her body through, and how it would change their lifestyle. Marianne had shown him the benefits, and eventually they came to an agreement. It wouldn't do to get her family excited so early on, just in case. They would wait for a couple months, make sure nothing could go wrong.

But it did go wrong. In the most terrible way. Marianne had been walking home from class, Roland had a last minute issue and wouldn't be able to pick her up, but that was fine. It was a beautiful night. So caught up in the beauty around her Marianne failed to notice the three men until they were upon her. She woke up in the hospital hours later, beaten and bruised and so very empty. Roland was so supportive, looking out for her family by sparing them the heartache of losing a family member before they were even born by convincing Marianne to not tell them. He nursed her back to health and took her to and from therapy, which he was kind enough to pay for. 

Months after her world had been crushed and slowly rebuilt, asteroid number two hit her. She was supposed to be out with Dawn, Roland was having his weekly poker night, but Marianne had needed to see him. When she got to his apartment, it wasn't proper for them to live together out of wedlock, everything shattered. There was a lie Marianne told, letting everyone believe it to protect herself. Though she had said otherwise, Marianne remembered everything about the attack. She remembered the feeling of her for head hitting sidewalk, booted feet kicking at her while she tried to curl in, and she remembered their faces. They haunted her dreams, and now her reality as her triplet assaulters and her boyfriend lounged around the blonde's living room, hookers with their faces buried in their laps and asses in the air.

Marianne had ran, her fear and hurt morphing to outrage faster than a bushfire. She told the police at the station everything, her assault case still open, and it didn't take long for them to arrest Roland and his friends. It was revealed that the triplets had been paid by Roland to take care of their ‘little problem’ in any way, and they had. It had hurt too much to stay there, where everything in her life had gone wrong, so Marianne took the first plane she could and escaped overseas, leaving her memories in the past.

Instead she remembered arriving in Glasgow, finding a small bachelor apartment and busking for her income. Dagda Sebille was a well off man, and had plenty of money to support his daughters, but Marianne wanted to do it on her own. She found Coill Dhorcha musical Institute and joined, working hard to reclaim her lost music. It didn't take her long to settle into her new home, but then she met a tall angry scottsman with eyes bluer than should be legal, and things changed again. 

It was an angry first meeting, filled with swears and spilled beers and maybe Marianne had punched him in the jaw but the dude totally deserved it. They met many times after that, as both lived in the same area, and always clashed. Marianne had accused him of stalking her, he told her that he would rather stick his hand in a blender than spend five minutes in her company. The heated words slowly became a game of sorts, a battle of wits that both parties looked forward to, though they would never admit to it. 

Their odd salt-mate relationship became true friendship when Bog had found a severely inebriated and extremely emotional Marianne crying in a nearby park. Finally, years after her attack, Marianne had felt secure enough to go to a doctor and get checked out. She had been told, in no uncertain terms, that her body had suffered severely from her trauma and it would take a miracle for her to be able to conceive again. Bog had found the devastated frenemy and brought her to his home, taking care of her without ever prying for more information.

He still hadn't asked her about it, and she didn't really want to tell him. How do you tell your-enemy-turned-friend-turned-lover that your only previous relationship had involved emotional and mental abuse and ended with physical pain and suffering, with enough baggage to fill an airplane? Even her family didn't know the whole story, it hurt to much to mention. Besides, they had only been a couple for a few years, they hadn't even talked about children yet. 

As if thinking about the overgrown pinecone summoned him, Marianne was brought from her dark memories by Hearts ‘Straight On For You’ pouring from her phone. The screen lit up with his picture, all scruffy black hair, sharp nose, scruffy chin, and cheekbones that could cut glass. It was a candid shot, taken just after she had told some insulting joke about one of his clients. Marianne let it ring until the last possible moment, enjoying the view she was granted, before pressing the little green button. 

“Hey babe.” She tried to sound normal, but apparently failed completely. 

“What’s wrong luv?” His Scottish brogue was relaxing in ways Marianne couldn't understand, all soft and scratchy. The worry was clear, making Marianne smile and she wiped away the tears.

“Nothing. Just a stressful day. How was yours?” His snort told her that he didn't quite believe her answer, but he allowed her to change the subject.

“A’m surrounded by idiots.” He growled, knowing it would make Marianne giggle. Even though he was a couple thousand kilometers away in England, Bog could still tell when she needed him.

“That makes two of us. I threw my song book at one of my classmates today. Got him right in the forehead.” Her boast was a bit forced, but not completely. It took some good aim to get that binder to fly true.

“An why would ye hurt yer book like that? What did those papers do to ye? An who was the lucky victim?” Teasing, their way of flirting. 

“Aaron. Dude needs to learn how to take a rejection, he was being a right bag of dicks to Rose. Then he made some asinine comment about women being the gentler sex.” They both snorted at that, though it struck a bit too close to home for Marianne.

“So ye answered him with violence.” Bog had a lovely dry voice when he wanted.

“Please, I answer everything with violence. I also threatened to skewer him with my bow.” Marianne gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Man, you must really miss me and all this rage huh?” 

“Yes.” It was a simple syllable, said with the conviction of truth. The same tone would be used if you asked if water was wet, no nonsense and without room for argument. She had been expecting some quip, another insult towards her boorish classmate, but not this raw honesty. 

Bog heard her breath hitch, her muffled cries causing him to sit upright in alarm. He didn't know the reason for her emotional outburst, and blamed himself. His stuttered attempts at her name and some type of apology were cut off with a wet laugh.

“I love you so much Bog.” The words made him thankful for the distance between them, for she couldn't see how his face became a tomato impersonator, and distraught that he couldn't be there to hold her.

“A love ye too. Only a couple more days, then A’ll be home.” Reassuring her made him happy, and he was rewarded with a soft sigh. The tears had stopped, thank fuck.

“Three days Bog. Any longer and I'll go stir crazy. Probably have to repaint something to keep myself busy.” She threatened, smiling through her tears. Marianne was not looking forward to more emotional turmoil as her pregnancy progressed.

“Ye wouldn't.” Bog was pleading and threatening at the same time, a wonderful mix.

“I dunno. I'm really feeling orange right now. Maybe some peach? Or coral? The office could do with some update.” Her couch abandoned, Marianne went upstairs to the room in question. It was the only one on the main floor, and smelled of him. 

“Marianne.” She could practically see the bemusement and displeasure on his face.

“Three days is a long time Bog. I'm sure Griselda would love to help me.” Bringing in his mother was a bit of a low blow, but it worked. The small woman was a wrecking ball when she wanted to be, not letting anything stand in her way. 

“Alright! Ye win Tough Girl. Three days.” It was Bogs reoccurring nightmare that the two most important women in his life would team up against him. He had only met Dawn a couple times, but knew the third woman would complete the headstrong trifecta and together they would rule the world.

“Don't be such a grump. I've got a present waiting for you when you get home.” Thinking about painting had brought up other thoughts, and Marianne drifted to the upstairs library.

It was a decent sized room, with book cases along two walls and some arm chairs dotting the floor. Dawn had called it a parlor, or something as high end, but Marianne didn't see that. She saw the birch wood floors, high white ceiling, and large clear windows. A plan formed in her mind, a very orange plan.

“A present? What is it?” He was like a gild himself, though he was a few years older than her, and often his curiosity won out.

“Nuh uh. Secret. You'll have to see when you get here.” There was lots to do, thankfully it wasn't even past noon, so she would have plenty of time.

“Fine.” It sounded like anything but, grumpy Bog rearing his head. 

“Go back to work. I've got evil plans to mastermind.” Marianne left the room, running to put on some tights. She needed to get moving. 

“Ach. Alright, be good luv.” Bog grouped, but without really meaning it. This was the first time in a couple weeks he'd heard her so excited for something. He could live with his office being orange, or even a bright pink, as long as his Marianne was happy.

“Never. Love you.” She hung up on his snort, running to the garage and hopping in the seldom used car. It was weird to drive in Scotland, she was so used to being on the opposite side. Most of the time Bog did the driving, but she needed to this by herself.

It all of the three days for Marianne to get everything set up. She called out from school for the rest of the week, her instructors demanding she at least practice in her absence. Which she did, for maybe an hour a day while she took breaks from working on the room.

Day one was spent on a trip to some furniture stores, followed by a run to a home hardware store, and then a long evening of painting. Marianne didn't have the talent for painting that Dawn did, but she did well enough. One wall of the room soon sported a mural, a forest bathed in the lights of sunset, while the remaining walls became a light peach.

Day two had the new furniture brought in, the old ones brought from the middle of the room and into the basement. A small library nook was made down there, and Marianne spent the day arranging and rearranging the room. She eventually got it set up the way she wanted, everything set up for ease of use while still giving Tall and Lanky the room to move about. The furniture had been picked with both of them in mind, a good middle ground in height.

The morning of day three was spent with final preparations, Marianne running around to make sure everything was perfect. If she focused on the reveal she didn't have time to worry about the reaction, so she threw herself into it. Food and sleep were only tolerated because it wasn't just her anymore, and that was annoying as hell.

In the afternoon Marianne drove to the airport, arriving thirty minutes before Bogs plane was due to land. Waiting was the hardest part, Marianne pacing up and down the arrivals with nervous hands fluttering around her stomach. She had a sign made, and when Bog finally came into view she held it aloft. 

The man in question nearly burst out laughing. Bog approached her quickly, his long legs eating up the distance. He grabbed the sign calling for a ‘Mr. Grumpy King’ from his womans hands, and with a surprising display of bravery tipped her down in a dip and kissed her soundly. Neither couple noticed when others cooed and clapped, too lost up in each other. 

Reality crashed back in quickly, leaving both with matching blushes as they hurried from the terminal. Their shared embarrassment didn't prevent them from holding hands the whole way to the car, or even on the way home. Words weren't needed, Bog was relieved to finally be reunited with his amazing woman whilst Marianne was busy panicking over the impending reveal.

The quiet was only broken when they entered the home, Marianne giving Bog a light kiss before shoving a scrap of cloth into his hands, much to his confusion. 

“Put on the blindfold, and no peeking. Unless you don't want your surprise.” He gave a weak glare before tying the black scarf over his eyes. There was a look in her eyes, begging him to go along with her whims, and Bog couldn't deny her.

“An now?” He questioned, reaching one had towards where he had seen her last. Marianne responded by grabbing his hand with hers and leading him up the stairs. Bog knew their home, knew the twists and turns, and knew they were in the library before she spoke again.

“OK, when I take off the blindfold I want you to open the gift. After it's open you can turn around, but no peeking!” She manhandled him as she spoke, making him face the closed door before pressing something vaguely symmetrical into his hands. Bog nodded at her instructions, trying to work out what he was holding

Marianne took off the blindfold and stepped back to the center of the room, watching the man she loved with trepidation. Fears of the past threatened to consume her, but her trust in Bog kept her grounded. 

Bog let his attention drop to the parcel in his hands. He was right about it being cylindrical, though the edges were bumpy and uneven. Long fingers made quick work of the pastel orange wrapping paper, and soon Bog was left confused. 

In his palms was a small pile of pregnancy tests, held together by a couple elastics and with their displays facing out, proudly showing off double lines. His breath came in gasping pants as he swiftly turned, letting his jaw drop as he took in the room.

Gone were the tall book cases and faded leather seats. Against one wall sat a large raised crib, white guard fence pushed down to show off the peachy blankets and stuffed elephant. Above it hung a mobile, bright purple butterflies and dainty green dragonflies hanging from fine silver chains. Near the window sat a couple chairs, one a rocking chair and the other a papa san, both large enough for both adults to fit comfortably. A long white dresser ran along the wall across from the crib, the top of it a changing table with roll bar. There was another dresser and a lush orange carpet in the middle of the floor. All ghetto furniture was bright white, contrasting the sharp citrus colour.

“M-m-marianne?” Bog took two steps into the new nursery, eyes filling with tears as he looked at Marianne. She stood on the carpet, hands splayed over top her belly.

“Are.” A gulp, a gasping breath. “Are ye pregnant?” He could believe the thought, sure he was still on that damned plane and having the best dream of his life. Her silent nod gave him courage.

“A’m going to be a f-father?” His feet finally listened, bringing him closer to the slip of a woman shivering in the middle of the room. Bog wasn't blind to the fear in her and quickly placed his one hand on her shoulder, the other holding the test bundle in a frantic clutch. 

“Yeah.” Marianne took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and taking strength from his contact. 

“Bog, I'm pregnant.” Tears spilled from her eyes and were quickly met by his own. He couldn't believe his good fortune, to have such an amazing woman at his side, one who let him know of her love every day.

With a swift movement Bog dropped to his knees in front of her, the future mother of his unborn child. His hand were shaking as he ever so gently covered her still flat stomach with them. Marianne shivered under the loving caress but didn't dare move. She could hear Bog mumbling as he brought his lips to her belly button, pressing loving kisses over her sweater. 

“Yer pregnant. A’m going to be a father. Yer pregnant.” Bog was repeating it to himself, getting more and more excited with each repetition. His foolishness earned him a giggle, and when he met her eyes she lost her breath at the brightness of the smile. 

“A’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!” His whoop surprised a yelp out of Marianne, while could only grab his shoulders as he wrapped his arms under bum. The duo giggled joyfully, Marianne's fear giving way to relief and Bog simply overcome with happiness. It felt as is his face would be smiling forever. 

“A’m going to be a father. Yer going to be a mother. We're going to be a family.” Bog spun gently as he spoke, leaning his head down to press kisses anywhere he could reach.

“Yeah. A family.” She agreed, carding her fingers through her lovers hair. A thought came to her, and she tugged at Bogs ears, bringing his eyes to hers.

“When are we going to tell your mom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short thing all about how Marianne would react ifor she became pregnant. Then there was a lot of back story. Woa. 
> 
> My motivation for this was cute YouTube videos of dad's to be finding out about their babies. So I did a thing. 
> 
> Comments give me life! Tell me what you thought, and pick a number between 1 and 41 for my next prompts!


	3. Deadly plastic tossing disk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt : I understand that you're my body guard but that was a freaking Frisbee, not a nuclear bomb Jesus Christmas. Hey, why are you still on top of me and how have I not noticed how beautiful you are?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm back. Have some shitty writing.

If it wasn't for the soft grass beneath her Marianne would have been quite annoyed at her current predicament. The sun was out, white fluffy clouds rolled lazily across the blue sky, and her bodyguard was crouched over her prone form, snarling at some sophomore. Said guy looked like he was about to cry, and Marianne took pity on him.

"Bog?" Her polite tone cut through the angry Scots tirade and had him focusing his startling blue eyes on her instead. The offending sophomore took his chance and fled, abandoning the Frisbee that had gotten them in this situation.

"I understand you're my bodyguard, and I'm thankful for the job you do, but that was a Frisbee. Not a knife, not a molotov, not a nuclear bomb. A freaking Frisbee!" Okay, maybe Marianne was a bit annoyed at being randomly tackled into the ground by a man twice her height.

Bog didn't seem to realize the mistake he'd made, nor the position he was now in. His knees were on either side of her hips, straddling her body with his bent arms surrounding her head. Her hands had reached up instinctively with the fall, clutching onto his suit jacket with a death grip. 

"It would have hit you." Was the gruff reply she got. Marianne felt her fists clench, but they couldn't decide whether they wanted to push him off or pull him closer. Ignoring her traitorous limbs, she continued on.

"And is there a reason you couldn't catch it? Or swat it out of the air? Or do literally anything other than tackling me?" Which to her didn't seem like the best response to danger. What if they're had been glass on the ground, or a rock? Marianne had seen needles on the college grounds before.

"I just, ah, reacted." Bogs too blue to be true eyes darted away and then back, seemingly unable to keep themselves from meeting Marianne's. She was having the same trouble, and if her heart would calm down for a moment that would be great, thanks. At least he seemed to realize he had over reacted.

"Right. And is there any reason you're still on top of me?" That question made his eyes nearly pop out, darting down to the very little space between their bodies and then back up. A very adorable blush took over his face, one that Marianne felt matching on hers.

Abruptly Bog went to jump up, finally coming to terms with the intimacy of their position. Marianne's hands, who would soon be chopped off for their betrayal, chose that moment to decide they did in fact want to pull his chest closer and proceeded to do so. The awkward action, fueled by their awkward selves, made Bog come crashing back down. In an effort to save Marianne from the crush, too late!, Bog rolled to the side.

Marianne's hands of course refused to let go of their prize, and thus she was pulled with him, over him, onto him. Straddling him now, sitting on his lap, hands tangled in his jacket, his shirt slightly ripped open from the tussle. If she had thought Bog was red before that was nothing compared to his blush now, furious and bright, while his own large hands gripped her hips and his very lovely mouth stammered apologies at her.

Marianne's heart refused to calm down, maybe later. Her brain seemed to join the hands in their rebellion, telling her "is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me" would be a very useful question to ask right now. 

Judging by Bogs choke her mouth had heard her brain and complied with the questioning. Something Marianne would be very angry at if she hadn't felt Bogs hips raise ever so slightly, letting her know that it wasn't a gun since guns don't twitch.

"M-m-Marianne..." It was cute how he stuttered her name. It was also cute how the rest of whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a moan when she ground herself onto him. Her eyes wandered to the little peek of chest she got, and she couldn't help but give the hair she saw a nose nuzzle. That got a whimper. Interesting. In the name of science, something Marianne had no clue of considering she was a history major, she should figure out what other reactions she could get from the tall burly man.

"Bog." Wow, she had never thought her voice could sound so sexy. Even with her previous partners she'd never felt like this. It was also heartening to see his pupils blow out from something so simple as his name. The fact that she'd never noticed how attractive this man was before now was an absolute travesty. 

"I think you deserve to be punished to tackling me." She emphasized her words with light grinds, enjoying the way Bog forgot to breathe beneath her. Marianne had never felt so powerful before. 

With a saucy wink she pushed herself off her new favorite seat, wiping bits of grass from the back of her skirt as she looked down at the wrecked man. His eyes couldn't stop darting from her face to under her skirt. Which is what she wanted, or else she never would have brought his attention to the mini. Marianne that ked whatever gods were listening that she'd chosen to wear a cute lacy pair today instead of her usual comfy ones.

Bog, still too stunned to do anything other than lay there and remember that breathing was a thing, gave Marianne a look that was half adoration and half lust. She found she didn't mind that, but figured a bit of annoyance couldn't hurt. With one last mischievous look at her downed companion, Marianne took off running for her dorm room.

The sound of Gaelic cursing was music to her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short, my old apartment got broken into 3 times, the new building caretaker was a crack dealer, my upstairs neighbours were prostitutes, and it was a generally unsafe place. This, coupled with my anxiety and depression, did nothing good for me.
> 
> Thankfully I am now in a better apartment, this is my first month there and it's great. My dog is now registered as my service dog and can come with me anywhere, helping with or even preventing my anxiety and panic attacks.
> 
> I'm still having issues with my family, like my mom constantly judging every little thing I do, which I've always done wrong, and my sister not talking to me, but I'm okay.
> 
> Soon I will have a working computer and Internet again, then posting will be more frequent on all my stories. Until then, have some cute. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'm really proud of the "too blue to be true" Just saying.

**Author's Note:**

> I learned way more about ducks than I ever thought I'd need. One of my future goals is to have some property outside the city and have some ducks, so it's good future knowledge, but still. I'm way too poor for that right now lol, far future. 
> 
> Yell your opinions of this at me in the comments. Give me a prompt if you want. I live on attention


End file.
